


promised one day i'd bring you back a star

by snsk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Romance, Slow Build, a lot a lot of isaac feels by everyone involved, alpha!Derek, background sterek, birthdays!!!!, otp: puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're on their way to lacrosse practice, Stiles rummaging in his locker.</p><p>"So what does he like?" he asked, slamming it shut.</p><p>"Isaac?" Scott said.</p><p>"Nah, Obama," said Stiles seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promised one day i'd bring you back a star

**Author's Note:**

> canon but not really bc containing erica, boyd and cora etc and everyone's happy + nobody dies i don't like death

"So," Stiles said, from his seat behind Scott in Eng Lit, "so what're you getting him?" 

"Huh?" Scott looked around. The teacher was out, bathroom break, phone call, or maybe crying in the hallway because she really couldn't take another kid ruining the beautiful intricate plot of The Phantom of the Opera again. English teachers, Scott had decided long ago, had more feelings than anyone.

"Birthday," said Stiles, making a uh, duh face at Scott. "In a week? Present? Card? Peanuts? Leash? Hug?"

"What," Scott said, "what are you talking about. Your birthday isn't until September, you have this app programmed into my phone to remind me every two days, I still can't get rid of it." It chirps the number of days left for Stiles' birthday to the tune of a different mindless pop song every time. Today it'd been Come And Get It (na na na na).

Stiles heaved a long suffering sigh, drumming his fingers restlessly onto his desk. He wasn't restless or impatient though, just Stiles. "Not mine, dumbass," he told Scott. "Isaac's. You remember him? Lanky dude with the sculptured cheekbones, hair the colour of melted honey?"  

Scott looked at him blankly. "It's not Isaac's birthday," he said. "Isaac's birthday's on -"

He paused. And thought about it for a while. 

"Uh huh," said Stiles. "Derek told me."

This got Scott to stop trying to recall all of the conversations he's ever had with Isaac ever, trying to remember one in which he mentioned his birthday. "Derek cares?"

"He wanted to do something nice for Isaac for once. He asked me what Isaac liked. That was kind of hilarious. Told him I'd ask you. Like I said," Stiles informed him, looking away and at their teacher as she reentered the classroom, makeup freshly applied, "really not that much of the soulless bastard you constantly make him out to be."       

"That's subjective," said Scott, turning back as the teacher continued the story of Raoul's anguished manpain. He spun around again abruptly and whispered, "Stiles? What's the date?"

"June eighth," Stiles said, doodling Raoul sobbing on the ground with a big tub of Ben n Jerry's on the margin of his notes.   

*

They're on their way to lacrosse practice, Stiles rummaging in his locker.

"So what does he like?" he asked, slamming it shut.

"Isaac?" Scott said.

"Nah, Obama," said Stiles seriously.

"Isaac likes-" said Scott, then stopped.

"Dude, you're like, his best friend," Stiles said despairingly. "And I got over the whole jealousy thing after you told me I'd always be yours - something I knew all along, was just checking, and so I'm not saying this with any malice when I say duuuude, you can't think of one thing he likes?"

Scott could think of a lot of things Isaac liked. Isaac liked taking away kittens and puppies' pain, and running breathless and panting in the woods with Scott. He liked being able to watch classic film noirs late into the night, because his dad had beaten him up the one time he'd sneaked down to watch a late showing, and waking up early to watch the sun streak golden into the sky. He liked rereading his favourite comic books, and still laughed at every old joke, but was extremely judgemental about new ones. He liked Nandos and lacrosse and fresh laundry and managing to catch reruns of FRIENDS and Biology and Scrabble and falling asleep with his head on Scott's shoulder.  

None of which translated well into a proper birthday present.

"I'll think of something," Scott said, and they reached the locker room.

Isaac was leaning against a locker, Danny telling him something about strategies and gameplans. He looked up at Scott, hearing him enter, and smiled, the hesitant one-sided one, like he wasn't sure whether Scott would be pleased to see him.

Scott heard Danny say, "And also when you're tackling - what're you - oh, okay, you're so not listening anymore, not like you actually were in the first place." 

He grinned back at Isaac, wide, until Stiles smacked the back of his head and told him to get changed.

 

"You didn't tell me your birthday's coming," Scott said. 

Isaac shrugged, looking surprised, long fingers playing an absent-minded tune on his lacrosse stick. "I didn't tell anyone? I stopped doing birthdays when I was eleven. It's not a big deal."

They watched Coach yell at Greenberg, Danny kindly defend him, and Stiles save a shot at goal and do a sort of tribal victory dance.

"It kind of is," Scott said finally, angrily quiet.

Isaac shrugged again. He looked sideways at Scott. "You can, like. Get me a card, if you feel bad," he said. "Or try a little harder to race on that day, give me a bit more of a challenge." He grinned a shit-eating grin, all flash of white teeth.

"I'm the one taking it easy on you," Scott said offendedly.

"Uh-huh," Isaac assured him. 

"McCall! Lahey! Stop daydreaming, you're up!" Finstock yelled.

*

"Derek wants to throw a party," Stiles said, like this was a normal thing, like one usually threw around sentences with "Derek" and "party" in them without a punchline.

"He what now," said Scott, certain he'd heard wrong, werehearing and all.

"I want to throw a party," Derek repeated grouchily. "For Isaac's birthday."

"That's - weirdly nice," Scott said. "Hilarious, but nice."

"Adorable," Stiles cooed, mostly for the look on Derek's face.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek said automatically. He folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling. "It's his birthday in a week. Do you want to help?", directed at Scott. "You're his - he trusts you most. It'd be good. You could be useful."

"I want to help, yeah," said Scott. "Uh, but - is this - is this a pack thing?"

"It's an Isaac thing," Derek said.

Scott thought it was probably 95% an Isaac thing, and the minor percentage a pack thing, but. "Okay," he said. 

It was 100% an Isaac thing for Scott, anyway, and that was important. Isaac was important. Plus he could deal with weird complicated pack stuff later.

"Good," Derek said. They heard Isaac's footsteps heading towards the loft, then his key jangling in the lock.

Stiles jumped at the sound of the key. "That's him, shh!!"

"You do realise he can hear us, right?" Derek said, rolling his eyes, but it was definitely fond, the way he was looking at Stiles.

Later. Scott was going to sort out this weird complicated pack stuff later.

"Hi," Isaac said cautiously as he came in, juggling four heavy-looking shopping bags and his keys. His gaze landed on Scott, and he smiled that smile, the one with the right side of his mouth. "Um, lemme guess - murderous supernatural stuff?"

Scott said, "Nah," at the same time Stiles declared, "Yes!"

"Uh?" said Isaac, brow crinkled up adorably. Scott was also going to sort out this weird complicated feelings stuff later, too.

"...yes!" Stiles announced dramatically, "but!! You must have no part in this!! It is detrimental to your safety, as it is the kind of murderous supernatural creature that specialises in, um, boys with pretty curls!! So what we need you to do for ehh, say a week, while we sort this abomination out, is to lie low, keep yourself safe, ask no questions, finish that Chem assignment and most importantly, do whatever we tell you!!!" 

Isaac blinked slowly.

Stiles hissed Derek's and Scott's names.

"...um. Sure," Derek said long-sufferingly, but also a bit like he was trying not to look amused. "Whatever he said."

Scott nodded fervently and looked apologetically at Isaac, mouthing "Sorry." 

"Um, okay?" Isaac said, grinning at him. "No biggie. I'm just touched that you guys care about me and my hair so much." 

He headed into the kitchen and started putting groceries away.

"That went well," said Stiles.

*

"So, about the curl-obsessed murderous monster," said Scott when they were at the clinic, cleaning cages. "We need to know your favourite colour. It, um, attracts him."

He was pretty sure it was blue, it was in the clothes Isaac wore, the various shades of sky he watched. But Stiles had screeched, "You're pretty sure?? You're pretty sure, Scott?! Same as you were 'pretty sure' that vampire wasn't into older guys' blood and 'pretty sure' Allison was the one?"

("Allison is the one," Scott had said, but with considerably less conviction than a year ago.

Stiles had side-eyed him. "Just ask Isaac.")

"It's blue," Isaac said, smiling down, shoulders awkwardly hunched, at the mouse he was cradling in his hands. Animals liked Isaac. Animals trusted Isaac. Scott didn't blame them. "Dark blue."

"Oh, right," Scott said and discreetly typed out a text to Stiles with one hand, without looking at the screen. They worked in silence for a bit while Scott read Stiles' reply: wtf is vlie that's not a color 

"Stiles thinks my curls are pretty," Isaac remarked, half-laughing as he scattered a few pellets for the mouse.

"Why wouldn't he?" Scott asked. "They're very pretty." 

He was too absorbed in typing out a super secret ninja reply to Stiles (blue!!! dark blue) to look at Isaac's face when he said, "I. Thanks?" 

*

"This curl-loving thing," Isaac asked off-handedly, as they were doing their homework in Stiles' bedroom while Stiles typed furiously on his phone to Derek, sometimes muttering "Imbecile!" "I said bRAISED," randomly. "It got a name?"

"Uh," said Scott, flailing in his mind. 

"Raksasaikaldalekstylinson," Stiles said without missing a beat. 

"Sure," Isaac said, nodding, hunching over his homework, but Scott saw his lips twitching.

"It's a very appropriate name, it's super scary," Scott said supportively, biting back his own smile. Isaac looked up at him over Chemistry: Achieve Your SAT Goals! and nodded gravely, meeting Scott's eyes.  

"Yes, it's Greek," Stiles informed them all. "Now if you'll excuse me, somebody doesn't have the slightest idea how to step into a grocery store, much less shop." He stepped over Isaac's legs, added: "For huntingesque supplies," and left. 

Isaac rolled over onto his back as soon as his Jeep rumbled away.

"I'm done, I'm sick of it, I'm failing and I don't care," he announced. His limbs, long bones and expanse of skin, were all spread out over Stiles' floor.

"Did you not... dare to say that when Stiles was here," Scott said, laughing.

Isaac shifted his eyes to the window. "He yells at me when I don't study," he admitted sadly. "He doesn't pause in between words, either." 

"Same," Scott said. 

The smile Isaac slid to him then was bright, familiar.  

"Wanna play Xbox?" Scott asked. 

Isaac did, and he totally sucked at it, so Scott tried to help him which led to them both getting killed, Isaac getting stabbed redly multiple times in the heart and Scott's bright grey brain matter exploding all about the place. Isaac laughed so hard it got soundless. 

Scott paused in bemoaning his character's fate to look at him giggling, blue eyes crinkled and abandoned amusement on his face. It was totally worth it when Stiles got home and nagged loudly at them for being on the same page they'd been on when he'd left.

*

They'd gone for training. 

Well. Isaac had gone for training, and Scott had hung around aimlessly, staring at the wall. Stiles was discussing important party stuff with Lydia, which, terrifying to the power of two, Allison was - busy, having a life and friends and Scott couldn't begrudge her that, he really couldn't, Danny was probably out with some hot new boy, and Scott realised that - yeah. That was it. That was the extent of his friends.

He stared some more at the wall and flipped a few pages of The Phantom of the Opera aimlessly before he realised he was restless, his wolf was restless, tingly and anticipatory for the coming full moon. His wolf wanted to play. His wolf wanted somebody to play with.

He headed over to the forest. He could hear them a mile away, yelping and panting and letting out some of the energy that felt so boundless, ten nuclear power stations and just as dangerous. Boyd and Cora didn't look up as he approached, still engaged in a tussle. Peter was teaching Erica and Isaac, to, like, fight a tree or something. 

Only Derek and Isaac looked up as Scott approached, even though they probably heard him a mile away, like he'd heard them. Derek was wearing a distinctly guarded expression. Isaac smiled at him, openly happy. The evening sunlight hit his hair in the prettiest way; Scott thought of halos and magic.

"What're you doing here?" Derek said, suddenly in front of Scott.

"To train," Scott said. "It's not a pack thing."

Even Derek would remember and take that to mean, it's an Isaac thing, but he still said, grouchily: "Yeah, but training's a pack thing, and as you made abundantly clear, you're not-"

He stopped abruptly. Scott followed his gaze.

Isaac was looking at the two of them with a distinctly worried expression. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth was turned down. He looked sad, was the thing, like a four year old whose parents were fighting - Scott would know - sad and upset, and Scott wanted to make it all better, but it was Derek's choice.

Derek frowned loudly. It was a thing he did.

"We're - we're catching the Raksasaikaldalekstylinson in two days," he told Scott. "So. I guess you can stay."

They both looked at Isaac. He'd turned back, but Scott could feel his wolf giving out happy little yappy vibes.

"Okay," he said.

Derek shrugged. "It's not a pack thing," and Scott nodded.

He went over to Isaac. "Wanna race?" he asked.

"I'm in the middle of a lesson," Peter informed him. Erica gouged a deep mark in the wood.

"Erica's clawwork is better than mine anyway," Isaac said. "I want to go race?"

He said it like a question, which Scott kind of hated.

"Oh, go," Peter said. "Clawwork's not a thing."

"You made us spend the last half an hour on it," Erica pointed out.

"It's a thing for you to control how deep the marks you leave are," Peter said. "Not exactly Life Skills, and I would rather not either, but Derek wants you to learn this. He's the alpha, you know."

Scott felt a bit bad for Derek. Peter sonetimes reminded him a bit of a snake, lying in wait.

Scott would want to help, if he could. Derek was a far better alpha than Peter would ever be; Derek gave a crap about his betas, especially Isaac, gave a crap about Scott, even if Scott was whiny at him, gave two craps about Stiles, which Scott maybe wants to deal with a lot later.

"C'mon," Isaac said, jostling Scott's shoulder, and took off running, the cheater.

"Hey," Scott huffed. His claws extended, and there was a flash of golden across his vision. His wolf yelped happily. He followed Isaac.

Running was one of Scott's favourite things about the whole werewolf thing. If he thought about it more, his favourite thing would be the ability to heal, to not have to gasp for breath and feel like drowning inside himself anymore.

Running was Isaac's favourite thing about being a werewolf. After he'd gotten over the whole strength plus power thing, which he'd reveled in at first until he realised hurting people without cause ended up with him gasping for control and dry heaving in a toilet, he'd loved running best. Running was abandoned. Running was escape. Running was - running was freedom.

Isaac told Scott things sometimes, when it was late at night and close to the full moon.

They ended up with Scott jumping onto Isaac and saying, "I win," and Isaac rolling his eyes under him and telling him breathlessly that technically, he'd reached the finish line first.

"Little things, not important," Scott said dismissively, still grasping Isaac's wrists over his head.   

Isaac blinked up at him, still breathing quickly. Scott's eyes darted down to his parted lips, the flush on his cheeks.

He was beautiful like this, was the dumb thing. The kind of beautiful that you wanted to keep in both in glazed glass and a sturdy wooden trunk so no one could hurt it ever again. 

Scott rolled off him, suddenly feeling like he hadn't in two years, like it was getting altogether harder to breathe.

"S'almost sunset," he said instead. "Wanna go up to the roof and watch?" 

Isaac did. 

*

It was Isaac's birthday tomorrow.

He crawled in through Scott's window at ten fifty-four pm, wearing a dark blue hoodie and wide, tired eyes.

"Hi," said Scott, shutting closed The Phantom of the Opera. "Hey there, almost birthday boy."

Isaac smiled sort of weakly. "I couldn't sleep," he said. "It's - I hate thinking."

Isaac had nightmares sometimes that carried over to wakefulness. Isaac couldn't breathe either, sometimes.

Scott shifted over. Isaac, still hesitant, even though they'd done this before, more than once, bit his lip for a second before crawling in beside him.

"Tell me what happens to the Phantom," Scott said, tangling his legs with Isaac's. He pulled at a curl.

"He loves Christine, but knows Christine is better off without him. He lets her free, and she marries that other dude."

"So he dies alone? I don't like that, that's depressing, do another one," Scott demanded.

He felt rather than saw Isaac's smile. "Actually, he marries a nice trans girl. He and Em adopt three kids, adorable Vietnamese twins and one Canadian boy. They order Chinese a lot becase Em likes to experiment with new dishes, play soccer on the weekends and the Phantom has a marketing job at an advertisement agency."

Isaac's heartbeat was slowly starting to relax. 

"That's nice," Scott murmured, a bit sleepy, still carding fingers through Isaac's hair.

"My dad and I used to play soccer," Isaac said quietly into the darkness. "He'd let in every one of my goals on purpose."

Scott never knew what to say, so he tucked an arm around Isaac's side and brought him closer, hoping it was enough.

"I bet you were just really good at scoring, though," he said, and maybe that was enough, because Isaac leaned into the warmth and just breathed.

"Scott?"

"Mm?"

"Tell me about the Raksasaikaldalekstylinson," Isaac said. "Does he have wings?"

Scott smiles into Isaac's side. "Lots, three pairs," he said, voice a bit croaky in that tired way but steady for Isaac. "And claws and fangs and purple fur and, and he wears the pretty curls of boys as a belt. Robot parts too, he's got. Um, he sings pop songs to lure you into his trap, and food of your favourite colour..."

"He sounds gross," Isaac mumbled, sighing sleepily.  

They sleep.

*    

"Happy birthday, Isaac," Scott whispered into Isaac's curls when his alarm rang at eleven fifty-nine, together with Stiles' "op, op, op, op, sixty-four more days!" reminder. "Make a wish."

Isaac heaved a half-asleep "Thanks," and snuggled in closer, but didn't tell Scott what he'd wished for. 

*

Stiles was sort of jittery all day.

"It's not exactly a surprise party if he knows it's coming, Stiles," said Scott in English class.

"I didn't tell him. Did you tell him? Did Derek tell him?"

"No," said Scott. 

"Then he knows nothing," Stiles concluded with finality.

Ms Blake asked, "What are your thoughts on the ending, Mr McCall?"

Scott thought of the Phantom's job in marketing, and the way Isaac's heartrate had steadied. He thought about the running, how Isaac had said fondly the other day, "Derek's getting Hawaiian cheese tonight," and the way Isaac smiled with more than the corner of his mouth now. 

"I liked it," he said.

*

"Um, we need you to only reach home by seven, we're planning the final showdown with Raksasaikaldalekstylinson tonight," Scott said, unwrapping his crisps.

Isaac reached for one. "Oh? Sure you don't need my help?"

"Dow, itg bot daife," Stiles assured him, mouth full.

"Well, good luck," Isaac said understandingly. "I'll just hang at Deaton's then." He licked red salty powder off his fingers. Scott tried not to stare.

*

"...and then we yell Surprise," Stiles finished triumphantly.

"I'm not yelling surprise," Derek said flatly.

Stiles whispered something in his ear. Scott caught the word thong and tonight and lalalaed loudly.

"I'll say surprise," Derek informed them.

"Good, I'm proud," Stiles said. "Scott, I don't see your present."

"It's not here, it's at Deaton's," said Scott, suddenly nervous.

Stiles kind of grins at him, teasing and fond at the same time. "Still 'pretty sure' now?"

"Never been less," Scott said.

Stiles patted him on the shoulder. It felt maybe like a blessing, in that Scott-and-Stiles way that never faded.

*

"SURPRISE!!!" they yelled, Scott grinning, Stiles shrieking, and Derek saying it reluctant-looking but sincere-sounding. 

In the soft light of the loft, Isaac looked - like he was trying very hard to fake surprise. He looked a bit shy, though, and a lot pleased. He looked really, really happy.

 

The balloons were blue and the food was really friggin' delicious, and the lacrosse team were there and so were the drag queens. Isaac was talking amusedly to Lydia and Stiles, so Scott wandered around for a bit and found Derek on the balcony, nursing a beer. 

"Can you even get drunk?" he asked. "Can we?"

Derek frowns. "You? Yes. I don't know about me. Maybe if I try hard enough. I never tried. I'm not sure."

"You're not very sure about a lot of things, are you?" Scott asked.

Derek scowled, body tensing up. "There's no need to rub it in."

Scott leaned his forearms against the railings and watched Beacon Hills, sparkly and small below. "But I know you're trying," he said. "When Boyd and Erica were lost - you went through hell to get them back."

Derek shrugged. "It's my responsibility."

"Stiles trusts you," Scott said.

Stiles' name made Derek's face all - tender for a bit. It was strange, but it was nice, seeing him give two craps.

"Stiles should know better," Derek said, all alpha manpain again.

Scott hid a smile. "I'm coming to training tomorrow," he said. "It's probably sixty-five percent an Isaac thing."

Derek nodded, that was all. He looked marginally less manpained.

* 

"You got me a kitten," Isaac said, in a sort of pleased wonderment, settling down next to Scott on the carpet later. "And you named her Raksasa."

"We defeated it and brought it down to kitten-size," Scott explained.

Stiles and Derek had disappeared for an hour, Stiles getting uniformly drunk and pulling Derek by the shirt, disappearing into a room. Scott didn't want to know. The party had reached the level of passed out or making out, so Scott said, "Come on."

"Um?" asked Isaac.

"I'm giving you your other birthday present," Scott said.

 

They pulled up in front of a farmhouse. 

"Oh, god," said Isaac, "they'll never find my body."

"Ha, so funny," Scott said, and led him around back. There was a big, old rented projector and a broken-down blue Toyota.

"This is-" Isaac started, then stopped, eyes wide, just staring.

"-a movie drive thru," Scott finished. "We're watching The Deep Heat, is that okay? Because I have-"

"You sneaked me out to watch film noir," said Isaac, and then he was burying his face in the cotton of Scott's shoulder. When he pulled back, Scott's sweater was a bit damp, but Isaac was smiling, with all of his mouth.

"Yeah," said Scott, "guess I did," and he smiled back crookedly at Isaac.

Isaac kissed him then, and didn't stop. He was shy about it at first, lips tentative, but then Scott tangled his fingers into Isaac's hair and opened his mouth for Isaac, wanting, and Isaac licked into it and made a sort of muffled, hungry whine when Scott tugged on his curls accidentally. They watched the movie on the hood of the Toyota in between snatches of more kissing, until Isaac's lips were swollen and he looked the best kind of dazed, holding onto Scott, the marks on his neck fading faster than they were put there.    

They stayed until the sun rose red and golden over the sky.

Scott watched Isaac's curls glow softly, illuminated. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> 1) fun fact "raksasa" is "monster" in malay
> 
> 2) title again taken from harry styles' don't let me go (((i kinda hate myself)))
> 
> 3) comments are like what lights my fire


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